


How to Correctly Battle a Fever (and how to Not)

by padaleksi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Babybones, Big Brother Sans, Cinnamon Roll Papyrus, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Sans is done, Undyne being Undyne, Undyne is on a quest of healing alright, although said cinnamon roll can very sweetly be a brat, but i nEED SOME FLUFF IN MY LIFE RIGHT NOW OKAY, i can't decide if i prefer pap and undyne meeting as kids or grown-ups help me, literally written in order to desperately kickstart a writing process, okay so this is like. a lot of fluff, sick papyrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padaleksi/pseuds/padaleksi
Summary: Technically, it shouldn’t be possible for skeletons to get headaches, but the little blue monster barging into their house and screaming for Papyrus sure is doing her best to give him one.





	How to Correctly Battle a Fever (and how to Not)

He did it.

He can’t quite believe it, but he _did_ it. He slowly, ever so slowly climbs to his feet, doesn’t even dare to breathe in case he’d breathe too loudly, and silently _(victoriously)_ fist bumps the air.

Papyrus is sleeping. Sockets closed, teeth slightly parted, face smoothed out in sleep – he looks peaceful and harmonic and calm, things that Sans usually doesn’t connect to Papyrus. The almost empty bottle of cough syrup is left on the nightstand, something Pap won’t appreciate when he wakes up. Not that Sans blames him – it’s nasty stuff.

He almost forgets about the stack of books on the floor next to the bed, where he’s been sitting for half an eternity, and his arms flail wildly as he desperately tries to keep himself from tripping. His little brother is a light sleeper, which would probably be a good trait if the house was on fire or something, but so far, it’s just been a pain in the ass.

Sans makes it out of the room without any further incidents, skillfully avoiding floorboards he knows will creak in annoyance, and carefully pushes the door until it’s only partway open. He wants to hear if Pap wakes up, and he knows he’s going to regularly patrol outside the room to make sure Pap’s breathing remains okay.

He stretches his arms behind his back, popping the joints, and toddles downstairs to get a snack – he’s earned it by now, damn it. It’s not even late, which is something Papyrus was painfully aware of, but Sans is a firm believer of sleeping away the sickness. A sick Papyrus is far more exhausting than being sick himself – Sans is going to get to the kitchen, eat something, and then he’s going to sleep _(as well as can be expected right now; his own fretting will probably wake him up)._

He’s made it to the kitchen when a loud knocking echoes through the house, the sound multiplied tenfold in the deliberate silence. Sans freezes for half a second before he spurts towards the door, desperately hoping the knocker isn’t going to knock again or, god forbid, find the doorbell.

He opens the door and is faced by a small, blue, shuddering monster scowling up at him with such loathing he’s quite frankly surprised his HP isn’t damaged.

“Um,” he greets her, letting the silence voice his question.

“I _hate_ Snowdin,” the little girl informs him, baring her teeth at him as though he’s the sole reason for every cold, snowy part of the entire universe.

“Hotland’s right that way,” Sans says, dipping his head in the general direction of probably Hotland.

The girl doesn’t look impressed, and her teeth remain bared _(well – not that he, of all people, ought to judge)._ “I don’t like Hotland _either_ ,” she spits, giving him a look clearly daring him to disagree. With that, she ducks under Sans’ arm and scurries inside and really, the only options Sans has at the exact moment is to a) turn the kid blue and deposit her back outside, or b) close the door to prevent all the heating in the house to escape. He _(very long-sufferingly)_ opts for closing the door.

“So,” he starts, keeping his voice low, turning around to level the kid with an unimpressed stare, “Not to ruffle your gills, but do you usually barge into people’s houses?”

“Yes,” she states shortly, “Are you Sans?”

Ah. “Who’s asking?”

The little monster straightens her back and crosses her scrawny, scraped up arms over her puffed-up chest, “I’m Undyne, and I’m here to find Papyrus. He didn’t show up for school and he’s not a slacker, and he _never_ misses meeting up with me.”

“Well kiddo, looks like ya came all this way for nothing – Paps is sick, and he needs rest to–“

“Ridiculous,” Undyne hollers, dramatically stomping her foot, and he cringes at the noise, “The great Papyrus would never stay in bed and be lazy.”

“It’s not being lazy if you’re _sick_.”

“Preposterous!”

Now there’s a word she’s learned from Papyrus – or is it the other way around? Where did Paps pick up that word, anyway? She draws in a big breath, puffing up her little ribcage even more, determinedly scrunches up her face, and Sans realizes far too late what she’s going to do.

“No, no, **don’t** ,” he starts, slashing his hands through the air as though trying to magically cut her off, and damn it, he’s just gotten Paps to stop sneaking out of the bed and to actually sleep –

“PAPYRUS!” Undyne roars, and Sans actually stumbles backwards at the sheer _volume_ of her voice. “GET YOUR LAZY BUTT OVER HERE RIGHT NOW, I’M HERE TO RESCUE YOU. PAPYRUUUUUS?”

Wonderful. Papyrus may be sick, but he’d have to be in a coma to remain unaware of that roar. Undyne could probably literally raise the dead by screaming at them.

The little hellion of a monster continues into the house, leaving a small trail of snow behind her, and as she reaches the living room she cups her hands around her mouth and hollers Papyrus’ name again. It’d probably be useless to shove her outside, Sans reflects, she’d find a way back inside anyway. Possibly through the wall.

He suppresses a groan as he hears the telltale sound of two bony little feet thudding to the floor and scuffing around upstairs. Then, a matching shout to greet their guest;

“UNDYNE?”

Or, well, he’s sure it’s a valiant attempt at shouting. Poor Papyrus’s voice isn’t exactly fit for screaming at the moment. Trying to force your hoarse voice into screaming can’t be good, either _(Sans makes a mental note to stock up on more cough syrup. Again)._

The door upstairs opens, and Papyrus shuffles out to lean against the railing, barefooted _(although Sans **knows** he left him with two pair of socks on each feet), _ cocooned in at least three visible blankets and still shivering as much as Undyne is. Sans can _hear_ his bones rattling beneath the covers, and decides it’s important to find more blankets. And more socks. He doesn’t know where Papyrus’s sudden hatred for socks sprung from, but Sans will make sure the socks stay on even if he has to sit on him. He has the advantage of being older and the threat of sitting on his younger sibling is mostly real.

“THERE YOU ARE,” Undyne shouts gleefully, and although all her sharp, sharp teeth are showing the smile is genuinely happy. “YOU DIDN’T SHOW UP TODAY AND SINCE I KNOW YOU’RE NOT A SLACKER, I KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG. I’M HERE TO RESCUE YOU!”

Papyrus’s face lights up in a wide, brilliant smile, and Sans _melts_ enough to forget to be offended by the fact that this rescue pretty much makes him the bad guy.

“WOWIE! THAT IS VERY KIND OF –“ a coughing fit interrupt Papyrus, and he aggressively clears his non-existent throat, “…very kind of you! Thank you, Undyne, that’s so cool!”

“I know, right?” Undyne beams, and then places her hands on her hips as she squints up at him, “How does this rescue proceed? Do you come downstairs, or do I come up and carry you downstairs?”

“That’d be very heroic of you.”

“We could also jump out of the window in your room – assuming you have a window – that’d be even more heroic.”

“It’s not heroic if you break your bones **_and_** the bones of the one you’re trying to rescue,” Sans pipes up, feeling the beginning of a headache build up in the back of his skull, “No one’s jumping out of any windows.” 

“Aww, but Sans – “

“There’s snow outside, snow is soft – “

 “No one,” Sans repeats sternly, “is jumping out of any windows.”

Except… Papyrus might listen to his disapproving voice out of fear of disappointing him _(because he’s a good kid like that, thank you very much),_ but he’s pretty sure _this_ kid isn’t one to listen to the voice of reason – or, more specifically, the voice of a disapproving, trying-to-be-responsible mostly grown-up. He desperately wrecks his brain _(heh. Brain)_ for any hopefully forthcoming ideas as he, as expected, sees Undyne’s eyes narrow rebelliously.   

“Listen; how about you hold up with that rescue for a while? Seems kind of counterproductive if you rescue Paps only for him to have to stay locked inside even longer afterwards. Not a heroic rescue if you drag a poor sick fella outside in the snow. I mean – before he’s feeling well.”

“The great Papyrus is _always_ feeling well,” Papyrus objects meekly, but Undyne seems to be nibbling on the hook.

“A quest to heal him before the quest of rescue, yes?” she states briskly, and Sans thanks his lucky stars.

“Yep. Could start with getting him back to bed, before he rattles loose his bones –“

“I’m on it!” Undyne shouts and releases a loud battle cry as she races up the stars, picks up his little brother _(who uses his already raspy voice to squawk in outrage) and_ hurdles them both towards the bedroom. Sans doesn’t trust her enough to leave them unsupervised and trots along after them.

By the time he’s reached the doorway to Papyrus’s bedroom, they’ve already started to build what he thinks is probably the beginning of a pillow fort in Papyrus bed. They don’t _seem_ to be plotting an escape route _(but then again, one can never be sure),_ so he risks leaving the room to fetch them all the blankets they own. And the pillows from the couch, because he can be nice like that.

When he returns, they seem to have ripped every piece of clothing Papyrus owns from the closet, both of them wearing layer upon layer _(and, he notes approvingly, a lot of socks)_ until it looks like they’re barely able to move _(“survival training”, they tell him)._ Well, who’s he to question survival training? He dumps a whole lot of blankets on them instead. 

…It’s probably a good thing both of them ended up under the blankets, because he’s _pretty_ sure the little blue monster is _supposed_ to be blue, but if she’s literally frozen blue it’s officially a Bad Thing. He doesn’t want any anxious parents beating down their door – speaking of, where are her parents? It’s pretty damn obvious she’s not made for this kind of temperature, and she’s not nearly dressed enough for it. Unplanned journey? How did she even know where to find Papyrus – did she barge into every house in Snowdin?

Eh. Sans mostly manages to keep an eye on his own kid, he’s not going to start doing someone else’s job for them.

…It’s _also_ a good thing Undyne’s here because she has absolutely _zero_ qualms about sitting on Paps if he tries to leave. She takes her quest seriously _(“hardcore, aggressive resting is what you need! SAY IT WITH ME, PAPY”)._ It’s not exactly possible for anyone to fall asleep with Undyne in the house, sure, but this is the longest time Papyrus has spent awake in his bed, without successfully escaping it. Sans could possibly weep with joy.

Undyne also orders him to fetch them tea, because apparently that’s her mother’s cure for everything. No, as in literally _orders_ him, as though she’s the highest ranking monster in the Underground.

He brings them half-heartedly boiled grape juice, because they don’t own any tea. The pipsqueaks seem to like their tea anyway.

Now there’s only the problem of getting Undyne to go home. He’s not entirely sure how playdates work, but he is sure all guardians involved usually know who their kids are visiting.

“How’s the quest going?” Sans asks as he peers into the room for the tenth time _(their fort has been partially torn down since he brought up the tea. Something about an epic battle with a terrible sword-wielding, fire-breathing human – he’d heard a lot of shouting regarding that one, too)._

“Slowly,” Undyne replies tersely, reaching out to grab both sides of Papyrus’s head and staring deep into his eye sockets, “It’s hard to tell. Glossy eyes mean fever, but he doesn’t have any eyes.”

“How do you tell the difference?” Papyrus enquires, narrowing said sockets as he intently stares back at Undyne, “Your eyes are glossy right now – does that mean I’ve made you sick?”

“Eyes are supposed to look like that, you doofus! Mom’s the one who knows if they’re extra fever-glossy, though.”

“Yeah, speaking of that,” Sans says quickly, “When, exactly, are your parents expecting you to be home?”

“Later.”

“Care to specify?”

“Before bedtime.”

God help him. “And when is bedtime?”

“Not now.”

Sans throws his hands up in the air, tells them to keep up their good work, and leaves the room again _(he doesn’t dare to go far, though; at any given moment, they may actually jump out of the window)._ He can hear them giggling and whispering in between shouting, and honestly, the whispering makes him feel more on edge than anything.

Soon it’s growing dark outside and Undyne is still there and Papyrus is still up and Sans just wants to go the hell to sleep _(he’s not even running on fumes anymore, he’s just running on the knowledge that if he falls asleep he’ll leave the house unsupervised to two, let’s say, **energetic** kids, and he can’t afford a new place if this one burns down)._ It takes him a while to realize that the loud knocking is not his head protesting, but actually someone at the door.

“Please don’t be another little blue monster,” he mutters to himself as he forces his feet to shuffle down the hallway.

He opens the door and is faced by a tall, blue monster scowling down at him in either despair or deep resignation. It’s a look Sans finds relatable.

“Oh thank god,” she greets, “You’re a skeleton.”

“Um. Yes.”

“Please tell me my daughter is here – she’s been talking about her skeleton friend, and you have no idea how surprisingly hard it is to find skeletons in the Underground.”

“There is a small angry blue monster in my little bro’s room,” Sans confirms, and he’s _this_ close to simply saying fuck it and falling asleep right there and then. Swooning into the poor monster’s arm sounds excellent.

“SHE’S HERE, YOU CAN STOP BREAKING DOWN DOORS NOW,” the woman shouts over her shoulder, and the noise abruptly shakes Sans from his would-be sleep.

“ALRIGHT, GREAT,” another voice replies from somewhere in the distance.

“I hope she wasn’t too much of a bother,” Undyne’s mother says as she turns back to Sans, “She can be a bit of a firecracker.”

“She seems like a cool kid,” he says, and then, because he’s too tired for more potential social interaction; “Hold on, let me get her for you.”

He skips up the stairs with just a little more energy _(the absolute last of the reserves he didn’t even know he had),_ and palms open the door, “Hey kid, your mom is here to –“

The bed is empty and the window is open and he can hear muffled cursing below said window and Sans wants to cry. Or just sleep.

There’s a note on the bed, addressed to him in familiar big, blocky letters;

DEAR SANS,

UNDYNE NEEDS A RESCUE RIGHT AWAY, SO WE’RE RUNNING AWAY. SEE YOU SOON!

LOVE,

THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND THE AWESOME UNDYNE

He absently wonders if he can sue a kid for kidnapping a kid. It’s with great dismay that he drags himself to the window and peers down, hoping against hope that there are no broken bones to be seen.

…Actually, there’s nothing much to be seen at all.

The thing about Snowdin is that it’s called Snowdin for a reason. There’s a lot of snow here, seriously, what did you expect? He can make out the outline of a white skull and the far more noticeable blue head of Undyne, but they’re not getting anywhere. They’ve sunk far too deep into the snow.

“Sup,” he drawls, leaning out the window, “How’s the rescue going?”

Undyne shows him all her very pointy teeth in frustration, while Papyrus gives him a both terribly guilty yet visibly pleased smile.

“We’re doing okay! We told you, Sans, the snow is very soft!”

“Huh. Well, I mean, you’re right on that one. However – I hate to do this Pap, but…”

“Don’t say it,” Papyrus pleads, giving him his best puppy eyes which _almost_ works. But not even that’s enough to save him.

“You’re grounded.”

Papyrus flops backwards in the snow _(or, well, his head flops a little bit)_ and he groans dramatically, while Undyne’s arms shoot up from the snow to form angry fists.

“That’s unfair!” she protests loudly, and he’s sure she’s doing the best to stomp her little feet, “Get down here so I can fight you! I’ll fight you for Papyrus’s honor!”

“Oh, trust me, it’s going to be fair,” Sans reassures her, “Pretty sure you’re grounded too.”

As though summoned, an equally angry blue fish rounds the corner, angry puffs of air streaming out between her pointy, clenched teeth, and if she had ears smoke would most likely pour out of them too, and Sans is mature enough to admit that he’s feeling very, very smug.

Undyne, meanwhile, flares her gills and widens her eyes and utters a word that’ll gain her absolutely no favors; a word that also makes Papyrus gasp in a worrying mixture of horror and admiration _(well, Sans reasons as he narrows his eyes, at least he’ll know who to blame if Pap comes home sprouting vulgarities)._

With practiced ease, Undyne’s mother scoops up both children from the snow _(one of them enthusiastically introducing himself and the other doing her best to sink her teeth into an arm),_ and marches back towards the front porch, angrily plowing through the snow even as she takes the time to gush over Papyrus.

Sans takes a shortcut to the front porch and wordlessly accepts the little skeleton being carefully deposited in front of him _(Undyne, however, remains firmly squashed between her mother’s body and unrelenting arm)._

“Thank you very, very much for today,” she says, dipping her head at both skeletons, as well as pointedly giving her daughter a shake.

“Thank you,” Undyne says grudgingly, and then proceeds to give them a wicked smile, “I’ll make sure to drop by again!”

Sans isn’t sure how she manages to make it sound so friendly and happy and excited when it’s clearly a threat directed at him.

“Bye! See you!” Papyrus chirps, and waves at them until they’re out of sight. Sans glances down at his brother’s feet, and decides the socks are now too cold to be of any use.

“Alright, buddy, time to go inside – you’re grounded, remember?”

“That’s quite alright, brother,” Papyrus reassures him, kindly patting Sans’s arm, and Sans is quite sure he’s only this calm because he _knows_ Sans is a push-over.

But _this_ time Sans will stick to his word and be stern about Pap being grounded, and not give in to his lil bro’s pouting.

…At least as long as it takes for Pap to shake off the fever.


End file.
